"It's the middle of the day."
"I'm a rock star," he said, as if that was all the explanation needed. He shrugged on his jacket and pinned me with a look. "Come on. I know a place."
I followed him because, in all honestly, a break sounded pretty nice at that moment.
Composing this song was a lot harder than I'd thought — and I'd already assumed it was going to be the most challenging thing I'd ever done in my life. I tried to keep it hidden from Noah, but inside I was a mess. Sometimes it felt like I could hear, taste,smellthe music I wanted to make, but getting those notes down on paper was almost impossible.
At least I hadn't cried myself to sleep yet. That was a change from back when I was in college.
I thought Noah was kidding when he drove us to the sketchiest part of town. He pulled in behind a dilapidated building. When I stepped out of the car my heel crunched down on what I was sure was a used syringe.
I turned to him with my arms folded across myfantastic tits.
"I don't care how hot you are, I don't care how much this inspires your muse, I'm not fucking you in a crack alley."
"Is that immediately where your mind went? Dirty girl."
"Then what are we doing here?"
"There's this bar I like. It's out of the way. No fans. No media."
"No concern for health and safety, either, apparently."
"You want to bitch and complain or you want to drink?"
"You're the one who wanted a drink, not me."
"Bitch and complain it is."
Scowling, I let him lead me through a series of hallways. We walked through one bar that looked pretty dingy, but he shook his head and continued on. When he finally reached a door with a restroom sign I dug my heels in.
"If crack alleys are out, I'm sure you can guess my opinion on public toilets."
"We're not fucking in the restroom either."
He pushed open the door to reveal a second bar, even more dingy than the last. I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim lighting. A group of biker looking guys were playing pool in one corner. A trio of skinny punks were drinking in another. A burly man with tattooed arms and a scar on his face stood behind the bar washing mugs while a girl in heavy makeup and a leather corset wiped down the counter.
I edged behind Noah as if he could hide me. "Is this some sort of secret criminal hide out?"
"So judgmental," he said. "How do you know these guys are criminals?"
I peeked out over Noah's shoulder. "I suppose they could be good guys underneath all those tattoos and leather."
Noah raised an eyebrow and gestured to his leather jacket and tattooed chest. "Are you saying that's what makes a guy bad?"
"Well, I sincerely doubt anyone's ever called yougoodin your life."
"I seem to recall you saying I was more than good when you came on my cock last night. In fact, I think you said I was magnificent."
"Shut up!" I hissed. "Don't say stuff like that out loud in public."
"This isn't public. It's an exclusive bar. Only those in the know ever find out about it. It's like a safe haven of sorts. A bunch of rockers and bikers and underground fighters come here to chill away from the media and police."
"Police?" I asked, incredulous.
Noah laughed. "It's a joke. This place is cool. Don't worry." He draped his arm over my shoulder and led me to the bar. As stupid as it was, that small gestured comforted me. "Hey Walt. Hey Jessie. Gotta newbie here for you."
The girl's eyes lit up. "Noah Hart, with a girlfriend?" She clapped her hands together in apparent delight.